Uncanny

Silas watched the other patrons mill about the pub, not a care in the world. Some were drinking and laughing, others playing games and flirting with one another. They couldn’t be any more oblivious to the dangers around them. Silas sat and focused on his heart racing. Not due to fear, but from the excitement of a successful hunt and the anticipation of another successful night ahead.

A man plopped down on the bar stool next to him, a stench of beer and tobacco radiating off of him. Silas didn’t judge, however, everyone has their own problems, especially himself. The man’s camo overalls were stained with what appeared to be old, flakey blood, and this piqued his attention. He had never been good at talking to people, but this man demanded conversation from him. He would do his best.

“What’s that on your pants, blood? You a hunter?” Silas asked, never looking away from his drink. Eye contact made him uncomfortable, he figured it was easier to make conversation if he didn’t have to look at them.

The man stirred, shifting from one glute to the next, and looked over at Silas. “Yup bagged me a deer just before sundown. Was starting to think I wasn’t getting one this year.” The man’s voice was gruff, tinged with a slight southern twang. Silas could smell his breath from where he was sitting. Like decay and tobacco.

Silas raised his glass in celebration. “Well here’s to your kill. Just had a successful hunt myself last night.” The man clinked glasses with him and nodded his head.

“Well, congratulations. You eat them or just hunt for sport?” The man sipped his beer, slouching back into his seat and relaxing into the conversation.

“Just for sport, not a fan of the meat. Too gamey.” Silas responded, “I usually give them to my grandpa.”

Or maybe it’s too fucking gross to eat what I’m hunting, Silas thought. He couldn’t tell him that though.

“Just sport, huh? Venison is pretty good if you ask me. You should give it another chance. What’s the point in hunting if you don’t eat it?” The man sounded judgy, if not a little aggressive about it. Silas didn’t know what he said wrong, plenty of people hunt for sport. Well, regular hunts anyways.

“I like the hunt. Tracking them down, the patience, the calm of nature. It’s very rewarding. Plus, I can feed my grandpa.” Silas thought his response was pretty good, and the man beside him seemed to be put back to ease.

“That’s fair,” the man responded, “I’m sure he appreciates that. So, are you done for the season?” The man turned and looked at Silas, and he noticed a big scar starting above the corner of his eyebrow to under his left eye. The eye was glassy, with a blue fog masking his pupil.

“No, got a couple more under my belt yet.” He responded, “Gotta make sure gramps has enough to make it through the cold months.” So the town can make it through the cold months, he pondered. The man nodded and looked back to his glass, making patterns in the cold condensation on the glass. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Go for it,” the man mumbled. Silas could hear in his voice the end of the conversation.

“What’s the scar from? Looks pretty gnarly.”

The man reached up and ran his fingers down the scar, then rubbed his eye, pulling the bottom lid away from the eyeball. He sat back in his chair and sighed once again. “Hunting accident. I was tracking down an animal on a friend’s property down near Pulaski, and I got too close.” The man lowered his head as if in shame. “The damn beast was killing all of his livestock. Almost got me too. Never did catch it.” The man turned his head in a sort of ‘what are ya gonna do’ motion and downed the last of his beer.

“I’m sorry to hear that, sir. Let me get your next beer, on me.” Silas tapped the bar with his boney, spindly finger and the bartender nodded. She took the glass and started to fill it again.

“No need to call me sir. Name’s Brian. Appreciate the drink.” Brian grabbed his glass and raised it up again before taking a drink. People like it when you cheers with them. Something about comradery or the like.

“You’re welcome,” Silas replied, “It’s nice to meet you, Brian.” Silas slapped a $20 dollar bill down on the counter and stood up. “I should get going, gotta prep for tomorrow’s hunt.” Or tonight’s hunt, he thought to himself.

Brian nodded and looked over at him. “It was nice meeting you too. See you around. What was your name again?”

“Silas,” he raised his eyebrows in surprise. Not many people ask him his name, well, not many people ask him anything. “See you around.” Silas grabbed his coat and swung it over him and headed for the door. It was dusk and the sun was just disappearing over the horizon, right when the after-work was scheduled to rush in for their nightly entertainment. There was already a rowdy group of women next to the door, chatting with each other just a little louder than the roar of the room. As he walked by them, one of the women, a brunette with glassy eyes, grabbed onto his coat sleeve.

“Leaving already?” She shouted.

Drunk already? Silas thought to himself. “Yup just planned on a few drinks before going home.”

“Noooo, stay.” She stumbled, shoving him a little. “We’re having fun!”

“Can’t, gotta go home. Got some work I gotta do later tonight. Have a great night though, seems like you’re well on your way.” Silas shrugged her drunken grip off of him and headed out into the twilight. She had probably already forgotten about him, but he wouldn’t forget her. A weirdly social outing. He should probably stay away from bars going forward.

Silas swung the bar door open. He thought it was stupid to have a door to a bar swing outward. Someone could blast the door open in a drunken stupor and hit someone. As if he manifested the issue, a group of guys rounded the corner and narrowly avoided a door to the face.

“Hey, watch yourself, buddy.” One of the men complained.

“Oh, my bad.” Silas’ hair stood up on end. A chill ran down his spine and a stench so powerful that it made his eyes water hit him. One of them was not as they seem.

“No worries, it happens.” That voice, Silas thought. It sounded like a warbled mess from a broken radio. He knew exactly what he was. The man was burly, weathered from labor, with skin so leathery he was amazed he passed as human. His eyes were sunken in, and it looked into his eyes with a knowing glance. It knew that Silas knew.

The prey has spotted the predator. The hunt is on.